The Adventure of the Red Code
by gilraenstar
Summary: Holmes and Watson must once more team up to help a beautiful women with a mysterious past. Holmes, however, seems to be a little blinded by love.


The Adventure of the Red Letters

Chapter I

It seems to many that know Holmes through strictly business find him to be unorthodox and of rather eccentric character. They see him as that 'crazy man down on Baker Street.'

It wasn't his use of cocaine, not his preference of music at unusual hours of the night, nor his endless ocean of chemicals corked and strewn all about every room and corner that wasn't flooded already by newspapers and books in a somehow orderly fashion.

To most it was his infallible ability to pull information from the air, or to detach himself from the outside world in a way that made others uncomfortable to be followed by his knowledgeable gaze.

As of now, he was doing just that, sitting in a chair opposite to the large window looking out over Baker Street. A blank expression clouded his eyes over.

There had been many occasions in which I actually observed him using the drug. When I brought this up the next day at Breakfast, he replied with, "I do recognize the danger of drugs."

"Yet you don't try to stop using them."

"I never said that I particularly _care_ for danger. I just find that the need for the drug out ways my fear of the consequences."

"So you're addicted," said I.

"It sounds harsh when you so it so."

"Have we gotten anything of interest in the papers?" He said suddenly, pulling me roughly from my thoughts.

When he said of interest, he meant that of a mystery he might be bothered to solve.

"A few petty crimes; nothing of interest."

"Any mail?"

"Yes, a few letters."

"Well then! There is still hope!" Holmes cried, standing to retrieve the papers from the table.

Most of the letters, like the one from his brother Mycroft he opened, scanned then threw behind him. Others, like those from Lestrade giving congratulations for past cases, he didn't bother opening; those also were thrown behind him.

He whistled, obviously finding a letter of some kind of worth. He plopped down into an open chair and read it over several times.

For nearly an hour not a single word passed between us. I waited patiently, knowing he liked to assess every aspect he could before presenting them to others.

"What do you make of this, Watson?" Holmes asked, throwing the paper over to me. I caught it out of the air, and unfolded it.

It read:

Received strange messages. Seeking consult. Shall come today at 2 o'clock.

Ravyn Steiner

"It would seem this woman is in need of consult." I said simply, unable to produce any other conclusions.

"Yes, but notice how she has printed the letters, yet how she has signed it in such a formal fashion. It seems she has quite an eye for art, and a hand for it as well. Also—."

A knock at our front door interrupted his evaluation.

"It's only one!" Holmes cried after checking his pocket watch.

He rushed to open the door.

There standing on the doorstep, was a beautiful one women of about one and twenty. Long brown hair fell behind her in a waist length braid. A few wisps of the golden brown hair had escaped from being tied back, and framed her fair face.

"Mr. Holmes," She huffed, seeming to be in a great hurry.

For a moment my friend only stared at the women, surprised by her beauty.

"Ah, yes, do come in." He stuttered after he had recovered.

"I am sorry I have come so early, but you see I had a bit of a scare not to long ago."

"It is not a problem my dear." Holmes motioned for her to take a seat across from me.

"Here are all the messages I have received from the mysterious sender; I just received this last one but ten minutes ago."

"They are coded," I noticed when Holmes passed me one of the letters. They were all written in a dark red ink.

"It's merely the alphabet backwards; A is expressed with Z and B is expressed with Y. Quite simple really." Holmes said dismissively.

"I figured that out after getting the second one. They all give me some kind of compliment."

Holmes looked at the women for a second, admiration clear in his eyes to anyone who knew him well.

"Hmmm…. I don't suppose there were any names on these?"

"No."

"Did you recognize the person who brought you the letter?"

"It was a different boy every time."

"Interesting. May I see the most recent one?"

"Certainly," The woman pulled from her handbag another letter, and placed it in Holmes' outstretched hand.

He read it out loud after scrawling the translation on to a spare sheet of parchment.

"My dearest Ravyn,

Meet me out in the old cornfields tonight at 8. I wish to see your beautiful eyes once more."

Holmes examined it carefully.

"Do you think there is any mal intent?"

"It depends. Do you have any enemies?"

"Not that I know of."

"Old lovers?" Holmes seemed to whisper this one with a little apprehension.

"No. The only man I have ever loved was murdered."

Instantly, Holmes perked up. "Who killed him?"

"One of his work partners in Germany. We had little money then, and no way to pay him back. My husband paid with his own life."

Holmes thought for a long excruciating minute, and then said, "You moved here to escape the memories of your homeland? But no. You are from England originally.

"Yes." She smiled at his discovery, a weak smile, that didn't reach her bright green eyes. " I met my husband while he was here on a business trip; he brought me back to Germany with him. We had been married a for only a year when he was killed."

No one spoke for a long time.

"We must assume then," Holmes, said quietly, "That the one after you, is the one who killed your husband."

"Oh, what shall I do Mr. Holmes?" The woman cried.

"You shall meet with him. Watson and I will follow close behind and arrest him should he try to harm you any." Holmes stood, beginning to walk back and forth with trepidation.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Holmes!" The lady cried, jumping up to encircle my friend in a warm hug.

Holmes looked to me over the shoulder of the women. He had a peculiar expression as if he had no idea what was happening.

I laughed to myself silently. Sherlock Holmes was not one of the most social people.

After the Ravyn had left, Holmes shook his head and retrieved a fair amount of tobacco from his slipper.

"Women are quite confusing creatures," He said thoughtfully, puffing smoke from his pipe.

I laughed heartily at this statement "You seem to have a liking for her, Holmes," I said after I had finished my fit of laughter.

Holmes recoiled as if he had been slapped.

"Hardly so, Watson! What makes you suggest such a thing?"

"For one, when she walked in, you looked like a blind fool seeing for the first time what beauty was, second, you stumbled when you asked if she had any lovers, thirdly, you couldn't tear your eyes away from her."

"You are learning, Watson, very much so." Holmes admitted after a split second.

At about seven thirty Mrs. Steiner reappeared at our door, much to the concealed delight of Holmes.

"Do you know of the place he wishes you to meet him?"

"Yes. I know how to get there."

Prior to us leaving, I packed a small medical bag, hoping we wouldn't need it.

Holmes called up a cab and we all squished inside, the woman between the two of us.

I tried to give her as much room as I could, but Holmes saw no reason why he shouldn't be so close.

Ravyn did not seem to mind in the least. It almost appeared as though she leaned into him without noticing.

"You get out here; I'll have us dropped off out a little farther out to avoid suspicion."

She nodded and left us to go ahead.

"Have you your revolver, Watson?"

"But of course," said I.

"I seemed to have forgotten mine." Holmes said, his hand hovering over the spot where his own weapon normally hung.

"Lost in those green eyes of hers were you?" I joked without putting heart into it.

"Oh bother." He said in exasperation, tired of my making fun of him. "Here is good thank you." He told the cabby. Holmes paid the man his sovereign, and stepped into the cover of the thick forest.

"You, Watson, stay here,"

"And what shall you do?"

"I am going to need your gun. I am getting closer, in case she needs help that we cannot not provide from a hundred meters away." Holmes clapped me on the back then pulled the revolver from its holster on my belt.

"You my friend," He said, previous to running out of sight, "Are the back-up for the back-up."

I saw him run quickly across the field then disappear into the dilapidated barn maybe 20 yards from where Ravyn waited.

At exactly 8 o'clock, a black hooded figure approached from the north.

When he reached Ravyn, they seemed to talk peaceably for a moment. Then, glintly in the near darkness, I saw the metal of a blade hidden in his long sleeve.

Obviously Holmes saw it as well, for he ran from the shadows, revolver raised.

Instantly, the man wrenched Ravyn in front of his own body, using her as a shield.

"Shoot at me, I shoot her." I read from his lips

Holmes paused, deciding whether the man bluffed or not.

"Do it!" Ravyn cried.

"Stand down." The man told Holmes.

With a flash of light, Holmes fired. He had guessed the man to bluffing.

But he hadn't been. Not entirely. He let out a shot the same time Holmes did. The bullet caught my friend in the shoulder, and he stumbled, falling to ground.

I ran from my cover, kicking up dirt in my haste.

The man had grabbed Ravyn and ran for it, all the while she screamed out to the fallen detective. The man aimed the gun at me; Ravyn gave me a terrified but determined look that said, I'll be okay, but he might not be.

She glanced once more at Holmes, confirming she meant for me to help him first.

"Good choice." The man chuckled, limping over to where a getaway car had appeared.

I watched them leave for only a second before running to my friend.

"Help her!" He gasped, smacking my hand away.

"There's nothing I can do," I told him. "You have to let me patch you up. You'll bleed to death if I don't stop it."

As if horrified by my reaction and knowing that she had been taken, he passed out.

It was a two days later when he woke.

"Don't get up quite yet." I told him. He ignored me, standing weakly to fetch himself a glass of water.

"We must find her." Holmes said weakly, trying to pull his right arm from the sling I had put on him.

"Leave that be!" I snapped, smacking away his left hand. "You'll rip the stitches out and then you'll be in quite a bit of trouble. Now, lie down and I'll tell you what I found."

The day he had been incapacitated by the wound was a long one. I had fixed him up the same night he had been shot, and for the most part, had to sit up the rest of the night to be sure he would not stop breathing. The next day I found someone to sit with him while I tried to figure where the man had taken Mrs. Steiner. I had managed to follow the tracks that had remained over night and found the house they had taken her to. I stayed for a while, trying to get a glimpse inside and make certain she was there. After I confirmed that I returned.

Holmes sat there silently.

"Here's the bullet that nearly claimed your life." I said, tossing it across the room. It was a soft tipped revolver bullet, a nasty, deadly little thing.

"We can go as soon as you feel strong—."

I hadn't even finished the sentence when Holmes jumped up and tread to his room as quickly as his injury allowed.

He reappeared about ten minutes later; the sling had been cut off, his arm hung stiffly at his side.

"Let's go."


End file.
